Where the Road Might Lead Us
by Darkpenn
Summary: This collection consolidates Darkpenn's ten Guardians of the Galaxy stories. The first takes a year before the movie; the others take place between a month and a year after the movie.


**Where the Road Might Lead Us**

**This collection consolidates Darkpenn's **_**Guardians of the Galaxy**_** stories. The first takes a year before the movie; the others take place between a month and a year after the movie.**

* * *

**How Rocket Met Groot**

_Unlikely partnerships can start in unusual places._

Rocket hefted the gun into the holster on his back. He sighed. This planet was obviously not built for ... short creatures.

He had not been to this bar for a while. The last time had ended in, shall we say, a certain level of disruption. Not his fault. Honestly, not his fault. Even the owner of the place had accepted that. Eventually.

Anyway, this was the only lead he had for the job. So he went in. At least the bar had the type of seats that could be raised. It was kind of embarrassing when he couldn't see the top of the counter.

"Hey, if it isn't my favourite little package of destruction!" said the bartender/owner, Uncle Sally. No, really, that was his name. "Haven't seen you in a coon's age! Haha, get it?"

"Uh, no," said Rocket. He looked around. "You've remodelled the place, eh?"

"Had to," said Uncle Sally. "Since your last visit."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Rocket. He pulled out a padd and scrolled to a particular picture. He showed it to Uncle Sally. "I understand this guy comes in here," he said. "B.S. O'Malley."

Uncle Sally looked at the image. "Yeah, I heard he had some sort of job on yesterday, and after he does that he usually comes in here," he said. "Due any time."

Rocket nodded. He glanced around the half-full bar. "Yeah, that's what I heard too," he said. "Hey, what happened to that waitress, the one with the big – "

"Left when we doubled our drinks list," said Uncle Sally. "Couldn't take the pressure."

"Doubled, eh?" said Rocket. "So how many choices do you have now?"

"Two. Beer. And ... a different beer."

"Then ... I'll have a beer." He glanced towards the ... thing ... who was collecting empty glasses from tables. It appeared to be some sort of ... tree. That moved. Big critter. It was wearing a greasy apron.

Uncle Sally gestured for it to come over.

"Nice outfit," said Rocket to it.

"I am Groot," said the creature, Groot. He put down the tray of glasses he was holding and stared at Rocket.

"Huh," said Rocket.

"That's all he – I think he's a he – says," said Uncle Sally. "Just walked in one day and started clearing tables. Lives in the back room, sort of, all he needs is a bucket of water every now and then."

Rocket finished his beer and put the glass down. Groot picked it up.

"Beats paying someone," said Uncle Sally.

Rocket and Groot both looked at him.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

Rocket nodded. "Yeah, I know, but what can you do, eh?" said Rocket to him.

There was a commotion at the door. A bunch of guys came in, loudly. Big guys. B.S. O'Malley in the middle, wearing some sort of oh-so-pretentious overcoat.

"Damn," muttered Rocket. "I was hoping he'd be on his own."

"Hey, O'Malley!" called out Uncle Sally. "This bounty hunter here has been waiting for you!"

"Not really necessary," said Rocket.

"Don't forget that you busted up my place last time," said Uncle Sally. "And you still haven't paid your tab."

O'Malley and his boys lurched over to them. O'Malley looked at Groot.

"What the hell are you?" said O'Malley.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah?" said O'Malley. "Well, stay out of my way, or you'll be woodchips." He turned to Rocket, and said: "Bounty hunter? Really? Aren't you a little short to be a bounty hunter?"

Groot was staring at O'Malley. He shook his wooden head. "I am Groot," he muttered.

"Yep, a major one," said Rocket in agreement. "Well, B.S., let's get this show on the road." In a moment, he had pulled his multi-barrelled gun from the holster, extended it into a truly fearsome-looking piece of ordinance, and pointed it at O'Malley.

Immediately, O'Malley's boys had their guns out and pointed at Rocket.

"Let me see, that's three pointed at you and one pointed at me," said O'Malley. "You lose, rodent."

"It's Rocket," said Rocket. "And I never lose. Let me tell you how this might play out. First option: I kill you, they kill me. Second option: I kill you, they run away. Third option: I kill you, they cheer and buy me drinks. You see the common thread here?"

O'Malley grunted. "Or we could simply kill you first," he said. "Did you think of that?"

"Er, no," said Rocket. Slowly, he raised his gun, until it was pointed straight up. O'Malley's boys relaxed, their guns drifting away from Rocket.

Rocket closed his eyes. And then pulled the trigger, for the barrel of the gun that held the shock cartridges. The cartridge shot up to the ceiling and exploded in a flash of white light.

O'Malley had realised what was going to happen and had covered his eyes with his coat. But the goons, taken by surprise, were temporarily blinded. One of them hefted his machine gun and fired wildly at where Rocket had been. But by now Rocket was on the other side of the bar, next to Uncle Sally, on the floor.

The bullets whacked into Groot. One of them smashed into the empty beer glass he was still holding.

Groot, unfazed by the bullets, gave a grunt. He looked at the handle of the broken glass, still in his hand. Then he reached out and grabbed the goon by the throat. He lifted him up ... and then threw him down. Then, for good measure, he did the same with the other two.

"Hey, peckerhead!" shouted O'Malley to Groot, as Rocket climbed onto the bar. "Don't you know how hard it is to find decent help!?"

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah? Well, I'm B.S.! And here's what it stands for!"

He pulled something out from the back of his coat. It was a portable buzz-saw. He started it up, and it gave a savage snarl.

"I don't get it," said Rocket. "I thought it stood for Bull – "

"And you call yourself a bounty hunter," said Uncle Sally.

Groot stared at the saw, as if some weird race-memory was stirring in what he had for a brain. He began to back away, into a corner. O'Malley gave a vicious laugh and began to advance on him, swinging his weapon.

Rocket ran along the bar-top, towards O'Malley.

"Hey, asshole," he said to him.

O'Malley turned towards him, and started to say: "Wait your turn, rodent, I'll get to you – "

And then Rocket hit him. In the face. With the tray Groot had been carrying. It made a _klong!_

O'Malley swayed, swayed ... and then went down.

Groot looked at Rocket, still holding the now severely-dented tray. "I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah, I know I could have, but this seemed much more ... poetic," said Rocket. He turned to Uncle Sally. "Guess I owe you one," he said.

He hefted his gun. He swivelled, firing a long burst around the bar. The remaining customers dived for cover. Various things fell off the walls and broke.

He surveyed his handiwork. Not bad, as minor destruction goes. Not great, but not bad.

Behind him, O'Malley was struggling to get to his feet. He might have even pulled his gun out, except that a large wooden fist crashed down on the top of his skull. He went down again.

Rocket looked at Groot, who gave a tree-type shrug.

Rocket re-holstered his rifle. "My work here is done," he said. "Now to get this moron back to the ship and then to the nearest Xandar police station so I can collect the bounty on him." He took hold of O'Malley's leg and started to pull.

Nothing. Not an inch.

He tried again. Zip.

He looked at Groot. "Little help here?" he said.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"I don't play well with others," said Rocket.

Groot said nothing.

"If you're thinking a fifty-fifty split, forget it," said Rocket. "But I might go, oh, eighty-twenty."

Groot looked down at O'Malley. Massive, heavy, comatose O'Malley. Rocket looked at him too.

"Okay, seventy-thirty," said Rocket.

Groot picked up O'Malley's unconscious leg. It was a very big leg. He let it fall back to the floor.

"Okay, okay, sixty-forty, but that's my final offer, and you do all the heavy lifting," said Rocket.

Groot took off the apron he was still wearing and hung it carefully over the back of a chair. Then he picked up O'Malley and slung him over his shoulder.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah, yeah, and you're cutting my throat," muttered Rocket.

Uncle Sally was standing in the middle of his half-wrecked bar, looking around. "And who is going to pay for this!?" he said.

Rocket reached into O'Malley's pocket and pulled out his wallet. He threw it to Uncle Sally. "Try this," he said.

Uncle Sally opened it. It was full of bills. Large bills. Lot of them. Lot of large bills.

"Yeah, this should do it," said Uncle Sally. "And even cover your tab. And then some."

"Damn," said Rocket.

"You're welcome here any time," Uncle Sally called after Rocket and Groot as they left.

They headed towards Rocket's little ship. "I guess you could come in useful," said Rocket. "To, you know, reach things on high shelves. Stuff like that. Don't start thinking of us as partners, though. Or a team. Or as friends."

Groot said nothing.

"But I guess we could ... hang out," said Rocket. "A bit."

Groot nodded. After a long while, he said: "I am Groot."

"Yeah," said Rocket. "Maybe it is."

END

* * *

**Gamora Learns To Dance**

_She might be a bio-engineered killer, but a girl needs what a girl needs._

Gamora frowned. She was in the main hallway of Ship, looking at her reflection in a polished metal panel. She did not have one of those things – what were they called, mirrors, something like that – in her little room. Had never owned one. Never seen the point.

She squinted at her image. Maybe if she put her hair ... like that ... and then if she moved her collar a little ... like that ... and then –

There was a sound behind her. She swung around, reaching for her blade –

It was Groot.

"I am Groot," he said.

"I wasn't doing anything!" she said. "Really I wasn't!"

Groot said nothing.

"Well ... maybe ... maybe I was doing ... something," she said. To tell the truth, she was not sure what she had been doing. "You ... you won't tell anyone, will you?"

"I am Groot," said Groot.

Gamora relaxed a little.

"I see that you're out of that pot," she said. "That's ... good. I suppose."

Groot said nothing. She looked at him. Talking to Groot was like, well, talking to a tree. Which was not entirely a bad thing, she thought, given her current state of mind.

"I ... I'm having a really hard time with this!" she burst out. "I ... I'm not used to being around people. People that I ... like. Not used to liking people. I ... I don't know what to do."

There was the sound of very small footsteps. Rocket came along the hall, going ... somewhere.

"Hi, Gamora," he said.

"Get out of my way, rodent!" she snapped.

Any other racoon might have been offended. But Rocket just said "sheesh" and continued on his way.

Gamora looked at Groot. He raised a wooden finger and wiggled it from side to side.

"So ... that's not it, eh?" said Gamora.

Groot stared at her.

Gamora sighed. "I suppose Peter might be right when he said I'm wrapped a bit too tight," she said. "Damn him. I hate that guy."

Groot looked at her ... sceptically.

"Well, I do," said Gamora. "A lot."

Groot shuffled over to one of the consoles in the wall of Ship. Gamora looked at it. There was something in a little space. AWESOME MIX VOLUME #2.

There was a button marked PLAY. Groot pushed it.

There was a cascade of music, and then a beat of drums. "_Oh baby_," sang a voice. "_Give me one more chance, to show you that I love you, one, two, three, take me back in your heart –_ "

"Huh," said Gamora.

"_I want you back – _"

Gamora had a strange sensation. Something was happening. To her hips. They were ... moving. By themselves. It had something to do with the drums.

"_Oh darling, I was blind, to let you go –_ "

This isn't right, she told herself. She did not do this sort of thing. Her body did not move like this. It had no business doing what she didn't want it to.

"_Get back what I lost – _"

And now her shoulders were doing it too.

"_I want you back – _"

She looked at Groot, somehow hoping he could tell her what was happening.

But he didn't. Instead, one of his branches reached out. He grabbed her hand. Swung her round. In time with the music.

"_All I need is one more chance –_ "

What has happening? Why did she feel like this?

"_To show you that I love you –_ "

And why were her feet moving like that?

"_Take me back in your heart –_ "

Groot swung her back the other way. She felt her hair fly out behind her. It felt ... good.

"_Want you back –_ "

As the music faded away, Groot swung her again ... and then let go of her. She swirled over to the other side of the room, coming to rest on a little table. She sat on the edge, panting.

Peter came into the hallway.

"Gamora, we'll be coming in to land soon, so I'll need you in the co-pilot chair," he said.

"Uh, sure," she said. "In a moment."

He looked at her for a few seconds, a bit quizzically. Then he shrugged and left.

She tried to straighten her hair, put it into some sort of order. Then she thought: why? I'll just let it be.

She looked at Groot. She saw that he had sprouted a flower on his arm. He plucked it, and handed it to her. She looked at it, not knowing what to do.

Then, tenderly, he reached up and tucked it into her hair, behind her ear.

She glanced at herself in the metal panel. It looked ... nice. She ... looked nice. She could not help but smile.

"Thank you, Groot," she said softly. "For ... everything."

"I am Groot," he said. He pointed towards the front of Ship.

She started for the cockpit. _Nothing_, she said to herself, _will ever be the same again._

END

* * *

**Drax, Gamora, and the Really Bad Donuts**

_Even in extremely strange places, treasures might be found._

_[Author's Note: This story takes place several weeks after the story _Gamora Learns To Dance._]_

"I don't like rentals," said Drax.

"I'm sure they don't like you either," said Gamora.

"It's making a funny beeping sound," said Drax. "It has been doing it ever since we took it out of the parking lot."

"I don't hear anything," said Gamora, as she took the little ship down.

"Perhaps that is because you have very small ears, and much too much hair," said Drax. "Now explain to me what we are doing on ... what is this planet called again?"

"Terra," said Gamora. "Earth, to the locals. It is where Quill comes from. He was taken from here about twenty years ago by a Ravager ship."

"Terra," mused Drax. "Isn't that an out-Zone planet? They have yet to develop proper space travel. And have nothing that anyone wants."

"As it happens, they do have something," said Gamora. "Something only available here."

"Which is?" said Drax.

Gamora mumbled something.

"A what?' said Drax.

She mumbled it again, louder.

"A what?" said Drax, also louder.

"A tape player!" said Gamora. "A machine for ... playing ... tapes. Of the musical type."

"Ah, I see," said Drax. "No, I do not."

Gamora sighed. "It is a technology so antiquated and clumsy that it is not known in the civilised galaxy," she said. "But we need one. Since the one that was on Ship ... broke. Was broken."

"Ah," said Drax. "And how did that occur?"

Gamora sighed again. "These things happen," she said. She had no desire to tell Drax that it had been broken by her. When she was dancing. Alone. Enthusiastically. He would not understand. Or perhaps he would. Which might be worse.

She set the little rented ship down in a grove of trees, where it would be hidden from view.

"Where are we going?" said Drax.

"There is a large city not far away," said Gamora. "Called Chicago."

"What a foolish name," said Drax.

"Now remember, we have to blend in," said Gamora. "I have done research on this. I have money that is suitable for this place, and I have brought appropriate clothes for you. You will have to wear a shirt."

"What is a shirt?" said Drax.

Gamora sighed once more and threw one at him. After a while, he worked it out. Had some trouble with the buttons. Too complicated for him.

She believed that the clothes she was wearing would be suitable. But she would have to do something about her colour. She had brought a Cosmetiser – not something she was usually familiar with – for the purpose. She attached it to the back of her neck, as per the instructions, and pushed a button. Her skin went whitish-pink, like Peter's.

"I do not like it," said Drax. "You look like a Xandarian. Pasty."

She pushed another button and her skin went dark, a caramel-chocolate sort of colour.

"Do you have blue?" said Drax.

"I don't do blue," said Gamora.

"Pity," said Drax. "Tell me once more, woman, why am I here? I can understand that you might want a companion, but why not the tree thing or the creepy little beast?"

"You really don't get the idea of fitting in, do you?"

"Or why not Quill?"

Gamora said nothing.

"Ah," said Drax. "He does not know that his tape playing machine was broken."

Gamora gave a tiny nod. "It means there is a deadline," she said. "We have to find one, get back, and install it before he tries to play something. So we don't want any trouble here. Don't get into any fights, don't get drunk, don't ... well, try to not be Drax the Destroyer for a while. In any case, these people are very simple. So we can't take any weapons. We're not supposed to upset their path of technological development."

"A knife would do that?"

"Let's not take any chances."

Drax grunted. "I will feel naked without my blades," he said.

"That is why you have a shirt," said Gamora.

* * *

"You say they do not have space travel, these people?" said Drax.

They were standing on a street in Chicago, having caught a bus into the city. They were looking up at a picture on a building. It appeared to show Terrans fighting large robots of some sort. Across the bottom was written: Directed by Michael Bay.

"Perhaps our information is out of date," mused Gamora. "Now, how do we find a store that sells tape players?"

Drax sniffed the air.

"I do not think that will do it," said Gamora.

But Drax was already moving, following his nose. Gamora had no choice but to follow.

They came to a little kiosk. It was the source of the aroma. There was a man wearing a peculiar hat selling things.

"Whatever it is, I want some," said Drax to him.

"Sugared or cinnamon?" said the guy.

"Yes," said Drax.

"How many?"

"A hundred. To start."

"Uh, I only sell in packets of six. They're donuts, man, not jelly beans. Although you look like you could put away a hundred."

"Then I will have six," said Drax. The guy gave him a packet and Gamora gave him some money. She had to admit that these donut objects did smell very tasty. She wondered who it was who cut the hole in the middle. So she had one. Drax had the other five. Then another packet. He put a donut into his shirt pocket – "for later".

"These are wonderful," he said to the man with the hat. "And what else did you say you had? Jelly beans?"

"We do not have time for you to stuff yourself," said Gamora. She turned to the donut-seller. "Where can we obtain a machine for playing musical tapes?" she said.

"Tapes? That's pretty old tech. A museum, maybe. Or there's a store that sells i-stuff around the corner. You can try there."

She set off. But then she realised that Drax was still at the donut stand, talking to the guy. She went back and dragged him away.

"He told me how to make them!" said Drax. "Do you believe that!? We could be rich!"

"We already have jobs," said Gamora. "We're the Guardians of the Galaxy, remember?"

"Wait, you mean we get paid for that?" said Drax.

They came to a store with a lot of electrical equipment, and went in. A woman came up to them.

"Can I help you with something?" she said.

"Do you sell donuts?" said Drax.

"Only what you see, big guy," she said. She looked more closely at Gamora. "Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like that actress, what's her name, she was in that thing where she was blue. Chloe Sultana or something."

"Why, yes, they have," said Gamora. "And I would like a tape player, please."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Sorry – " she began to say.

"What is that smell?" said Drax, sniffing the air again.

"Perhaps it is the donut in your pocket," said Gamora.

"No, it is definitely an unpleasant smell," said Drax. "I have smelled it before. It was on Ch'Paro. A planet of truly ugly creatures. Big, not smart but quite strong."

Gamora felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She could sense something. Something ... dangerous. She glanced around.

"Looking for me?" said a familiar voice.

"Nebula," breathed Gamora.

"Yes, dear sister," said Nebula.

"Great ink you've got there," said the woman who worked in the store to her.

Nebula pulled a long blade from a sheath and pointed it at her. "Go away," she said.

"If you insist," said the woman, quickly retreating. Everyone else in the store suddenly decided they had to be somewhere else too.

"How did you get here?" said Gamora.

"We've been following you since you picked up that ship," said Nebula. "The clerk there recognised you, contacted me, and then installed a tracking device."

"I told you that something was beeping," said Drax to Gamora.

Gamora realised that there was a big ... person ... standing behind Nebula. Extremely unpleasant-looking. He was even bigger than Drax. And, yes, he did have a rather noxious scent to him.

"This is my ... minion," said Nebula, gesturing to the Ch'Paro. "He is called Scum."

"What a foolish name," said Drax.

Scum growled at him. He pulled an extremely large blaster from a holster.

"I did not think you ever accepted help," said Gamora to Nebula.

Nebula held up her left hand. It was artificial. Which is to say, more artificial than the rest of her.

"I am still getting used to this, which you are so kindly responsible for," she said. "Until then, Scum is ... handy."

Drax burst into laughter.

"Er, why are you laughing?" said Nebula.

" 'Handy'!" said Drax. "Don't you get it?"

"Uh, no," said Nebula.

Scum started to chuckle. "Hand – ee," he grunted. "I get it."

Nebula looked at him. "Shut up," she said.

"Hand – ee," said Scum again, laughing more.

"I don't get it either," said Gamora.

And then Drax moved. There was a tall shelf of equipment behind him, and in a moment he turned and pulled it over. A cascade of DVD players and iPads fell over Nebula and Scum.

Then Gamora and Drax were running. They were out of the store and racing along the busy street. They turned a corner, still running, and then another.

They stopped and looked back.

"Without weapons, we have no chance against them," said Gamora.

"Perhaps we escaped from them in the crowd," said Drax.

Then a bolt from a blaster smashed into the building next to them.

"Or not," said Drax.

They began to run again.

Then Drax stopped, looking at a building across the street.

"Did not the donut man say that we might obtain a tape playing machine in a museum?" he said. He pointed at an old-style building across the street. MUSEUM OF CULTURAL HISTORY was written at the top.

"I think it was a metaphor ... but, damn, it's as good a place to hide as any," said Gamora. They ran for it.

"Metaphor," said Drax. "These are difficult things, these metaphors."

They went inside. The place was almost empty. "We should be safe here, for a while at least," said Gamora.

And then there was an explosion in a wall, and Nebula and Scum came smashing through. Nebula drew her blade again. "I will enjoy slicing you open," she said to Gamora. "It is hardly a fair fight, since you are unarmed, but ... I can live with that."

She swung. Gamora dodged, kicking out. But Nebula was fast. She blocked the blow and punched. She slashed out again.

Gamora knew that she could evade the sword for a while, but not for long. Nebula was already trying to push her back, into a corner.

Gamora charged, aiming to grab her enemy in a lock, but Nebula anticipated the move. She swung Gamora around and threw her into the adjoining room. Sliding across the floor, Gamora smashed into a cabinet, and there was a cascade of glass. A moment later, Drax came flying backwards into the room as well, smashing into a pillar.

"He is a strong one," he said, getting to his feet.

Gamora looked at the cabinet she had hit. There was something in it. She read the little card. It said: _Murata katana. Meiji Era. (Priceless)._

"I wonder what 'priceless' means," she said.

"I would think that it means you would not have to pay anything for it," said Drax. "As in, it has no price."

Gamora nodded. It sounded reasonable.

She took the sword from the case. The blade was slightly curved and carefully engraved. It felt ... good ... in her hand. Like it belonged there. She swung it. It carved its own path through the air.

"Oh ... _yeah_," she said, taking it in both hands.

Nebula came into the room, Scum behind her. "Time to finish this," she said.

"I agree," said Gamora, turning to face her.

Nebula slashed out ... and Gamora's sword blocked the strike. The two edges scraped along each other, in a shower of sparks.

Nebula pulled back and stabbed again.

Gamora blocked it once more. She smiled.

She glanced at Drax and Scum, standing toe to toe, trading blows. Scum punched into Drax's chest. It drove him back several metres.

"Oh no," said Drax. He reached into the pocket of his shirt. He pulled out the remains of his donut. "Now that," he said, "is simply unacceptable." He took a deep, deep breath. His muscles seemed to become ... more muscular. The shirt ripped from his back, shredded.

"Sister," said Gamora, looking Nebula in the eye, "you're screwed."

Nebula shouted in rage and struck out again. But this time, Gamora slashed with the katana. There was the clash of metal meeting metal ... and then Nebula's blade was broken in two, the business end falling to the floor.

Stunned, she stared at the piece that was left.

"You know, I think I could get to like this planet," said Gamora.

Drax was grappling with Scum. Scum was being pushed back but he had managed to draw his blaster. Drax grasped his wrist. The blaster fired, a series of bolts lancing out and smashing into the walls of the room. Both Gamora and Nebula dived for cover.

Drax and Scum were face to face. Then Drax lurched forward, head-butting Scum. There was the crunching sound of bones breaking. The Ch'Paro groaned and fell back. Drax wrenched the blaster from his hand.

Nebula got to her feet. "You may think you've won," she growled. "But you haven't."

"Well, we certainly haven't lost," said Gamora.

"There will be another day," said Nebula.

"Anytime," said Gamora. She made a show of studying the sword.

Nebula gave a snarl. Then she drew a pellet from her belt and threw it to the floor. There was an explosion of smoke ... and when it was gone, so were Nebula and Scum.

"Aside from the loss of my donut, that was enjoyable," said Drax. "But your sister has more lives than a dog." He picked up the sheath of the Murata katana from the wreckage and handed it to Gamora. "I assume that this is also without price," he said.

"Since it is obvious that no-one else wants this blade, I think I will keep it," said Gamora, sheathing the sword. "And I believe it is a cat."

"A cat?"

"Yes, it ... no, don't worry about it. It can be a dog."

A young woman poked her head around what was left of the doorway.

"Whoa," she said. "What happened here? Are you guys making a movie or something?"

"Why, yes, we are," said Gamora.

"Really?" said the woman. "Who's directing it?"

"Michael Bay," said Gamora.

"Oh, that explains everything," said the woman.

"Are there tape playing machines in this museum?" said Drax to her. "We were told there were."

The woman shook her head. "But in the next street there's a store that sells vintage stuff like that," she said. "It's near a place that sells pots and pans."

"Excellent," said Gamora and Drax together.

* * *

"He'll never know," muttered Gamora, looking at the tape player, newly installed on the Ship console. She pressed PLAY. Music came out. She gave a sigh of relief.

Peter, Rocket and Groot came in. "Good to have you back, Gamora," said Peter. "Where did you and Drax get to, anyway?"

"I was ... that is, we were ... uh, not here ... " she stammered.

She was saved by the appearance of Drax. He was carrying a tray of something. "Look what I have done!" he said. "I have made donuts!"

"Oh, that's why you had those pans and stuff," said Rocket.

"Where is the hole?" said Gamora, looking at the rather uninviting lumps of fried dough.

"I ... haven't worked that bit out yet," said Drax.

He, Peter, Rocket, and Gamora each took one. They took a bite ... and then spat it out.

"Disgusting, even by your standards," said Rocket.

"It ... needs work," said Peter.

"Quite a lot," said Gamora.

"Perhaps," said Drax.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Easy for you to say, you didn't have to taste it," said Rocket to him.

"Then I have a new mission," said Drax. "Aside from killing Thanos. And protecting the galaxy. I will make it my life's work to find the perfect donut recipe. This I swear." He took the tray and returned to wherever it was that he had made the things that were definitely not donuts.

Peter glanced at Gamora. "Metaphor?" he said.

She sighed. "We can only hope," she said.

END

* * *

**The Guardians of the Galaxy on the Road to Knowhere**

_A dangerous enemy, a new ally for the Guardians, and an enormous amount of slime._

_[Author's Note: This story takes place a few weeks after the story _Drax, Gamora, and the Really Bad Donuts_.]_

"I would kill a large number of people for a shower," said Gamora.

"Is that a metaphor?" said Drax.

"Don't think so," said Peter, in the pilot's seat.

"Damn, just when I thought I was getting the hang of it," said Drax.

"Some of us need more than a once-over with a damp cloth to get clean," said Rocket to Drax. "Those of us with hair and fur."

The five of them looked at each other. They were covered with sticky yellow goo, the legacy of a fight with a swarm of Karach'ii bugs. Horrible creatures, only two feet tall but mostly teeth, and with a tendency to explode into slime when shot, stabbed, or crushed. And there had been a lot of them – 7,319, according to Groot. They had come bursting up through the crust of slag-heap planet D59A47/98Q7-004. Not the first infestation of the things seen in this quadrant, but the first in a while. Bit worrying, really.

Ship had been damaged in the final attack of the swarm, and it had taken Rocket six hours to bring the engines back online. He had said that the patch-up job would not last for long, and had only been possible by taking parts from Ship's shower system, rudimentary as it was. So they had been covered in muck for six hours now. No-one was especially happy about it.

"I also had to use one of Drax's frypans," said Rocket. "We are currently being protected from leaking engine radiation by a kitchen implement."

"One of my frypans!?" said Drax. "Which one?"

Rocket held up his hands to indicate the size.

"But that one was my favourite!" said Drax.

"Hey, if it stops you cooking I consider it a service to the galaxy," said Rocket.

The communicator console beeped. The face of Nova Prime came on screen.

"You all look disgusting," she said. "But I assume it means that you won the battle of D59A47/98Q7-004."

"Won is a relative term," said Peter.

"As long as they have been stopped," she said. "Those things will eat whole planets if they can. All they do is consume and multiply."

There was a sudden _clunk!_ from the innards of Ship. Their speed dropped dramatically.

"And there goes the frypan," said Rocket.

"No way we'll be able to make Xandar," said Peter.

"Our best bet is Knowhere," said Gamora, looking at the navigation screen.

"You mean, the place that ended up thoroughly trashed after our last visit?" said Rocket.

"And the place that would require body parts as a down-payment on ship repairs?" said Peter.

"You might find that there have been some changes at Knowhere," said Nova Prime. "I will send a message to the Xandar Liaison Officer there, and he will be ready for you, and ensure you are not ludicrously overcharged for what you need." She signed off.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"You're right, the idea of a Xandar Liaison Officer at Knowhere doesn't sound good," said Rocket.

There was another _clunk!_ noise.

"Not much choice," said Peter.

* * *

They walked down the gangway in the dock. At the end, there was an oddly familiar face.

"Welcome to Knowhere," said Nova Corpsman Rhomann Dey. "You all look awful."

"Hey, it's ... that chubby fellow," said Rocket.

"So you are the Xandar Liaison Officer," said Gamora. "I suppose that is a step up from being Nova Prime's hat-holder."

"And what is this?" said Drax, pointing to the creature beside Dey. "Wait, I know, it is a dog. They have many lives."

"You don't know the half of it," said the dog.

"I did not know they could talk," said Drax.

"They can't," said Peter. "Well, obviously that is not entirely true."

"Allow me to introduce the Governor of Knowhere," said Dey, gesturing to the dog.

"I know this guy," said Rocket. "Last time I saw him, he was in one of the Collector's display cases."

"Yes, and I thank you for getting me out of there, even though it was really just a catastrophic accident," said the dog.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Whoa, no need to shout, big fella," said the dog.

"I am Groot," whispered Groot.

"Yes, they certainly are," said the dog.

"The Governor is telepathic," said Rey. "Mind reading and control. So it would be unwise to try and deceive him. Or play cards with him."

Peter was looking at the battered collar the dog was wearing. It said CCCP.

"What's a cccp?" said Rocket.

"It's a while ago, but I remember that it stood for a country on Earth, called the Soviet Union," said Peter. "Wait, I recognise you now. You're Cosmo the Space Dog!"

"Indeed," said the dog.

"Which means?" said Gamora.

"Well, when people on Earth starting going into space, the Soviet Union sent capsules with dogs up first, as an experiment," said Peter. "That happened before I was born, but I had a book about it. Cosmo was sent up in a rocket, to go into orbit, but something went wrong. The rocket just kept going. Headed for deep space. No-one knew what eventually happened."

"What eventually happened," said Cosmo, "is that my little capsule was sucked into something that I now know was a Class K anomaly. When I came out the other side, I was in this galaxy, and I was what I am now. By which I mean telepathic and, when I encountered people, capable of learning speech. I can tell you that it is somewhat over-rated."

"That's a really stupid story," said Rocket. "Sheesh, I can't believe I'm talking to a dog."

"I am Groot," said Groot to him.

"That's entirely different," said Rocket.

"In any case," said Dey, "quarters have been prepared for you to use while your ship is being repaired."

"I suggest you shower," said Cosmo. "Extensively. You smell awful. And I can tell that because ... I'm a dog."

* * *

"So much better," said a freshly-scrubbed Gamora, as she took a seat next to Peter, Rocket and Groot at a food stall overlooking Knowhere's huge dock area.

"This place is getting a bit too ... clean ... for my liking," said Rocket, looking around. Indeed, Knowhere was looking much more ordered, efficient and productive than it had before. Only about a quarter of the people walking around were armed.

Drax sat down beside them. "I was not fortunate," he said. "All the food that is sold around here is little dead animals on sticks."

"And so your search will continue," said Gamora.

Cosmo and Dey came up to them. "Mister Quill, Lady Gamora, I have something you might like to see," said Cosmo. "While Corpsman Dey shows the others how the repairs to your ship are proceeding."

So Peter and Gamora followed Cosmo. " 'Lady'?" whispered Peter to Gamora.

"It's, er, an honorary title," said Gamora. "I am, after all, a daughter of Thanos. You may call me Lady if you like."

"I'll think about it," said Peter.

Eventually, they came to a little hut, and went inside.

It was full of Terran stuff. Everything from pieces of clothing to electrical equipment.

"Whoa," said Peter. "Where did all this come from?"

"Picked up by Ravagers, mostly," said Cosmo. "They've been going to Earth for a fair while. Being stupid, they have no idea what might be valuable so they grab anything. I keep an eye out for things when they hit the market. Call me foolish and nostalgic."

"You are foolish and nostalgic," said Gamora.

"Oh, is that how you got the samurai sword, Gamora?" said Peter. "A Ravager jumble sale?"

"Why, yes, I did," said Gamora, although she had no idea what a jumble sale was.

She noticed Cosmo looking at her. She searched for a way to change the subject. "What is this?" she said, pointing at an object at random.

"Ah," said Peter. "An old friend. That, Lady Gamora, is a television. And, look, this one even has a built-in VCR. That was state-of-the-art, once."

Cosmo suddenly said: "We should go. There is something happening at the dock."

They hurried back the way they had come, and met Drax, Rocket, and Groot at the stall. They could see a barge coming through the airlock, towing a freighter behind it.

"So what's so unusual?" said Peter.

"What is unusual," said Cosmo, "is that there is no-one on that freighter. No signs of mental activity."

"Dead?" said Drax.

"No, just not there," said Cosmo. "Very odd."

The freighter looked rather battered, with fissures in the hull. The barge slowly manoeuvred it into a bay.

"Where was it found?" said Peter.

"According to the barge pilot, it was found drifting near a planet designated D59A47/98Q7-004," said Cosmo.

"Uh-oh," said Rocket.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"You don't think ... oh, you do think that it's Karach'ii bugs," said Cosmo. "That ... would be a real problem. They would consume Knowhere and everyone in it."

"Tell your people to not open the ship doors," said Peter. "Seal the whole area."

Too late. They could see that one of the doors of the freighter was already being prised open by several workmen.

As soon as the door was open a crack, a cascade of Karach'ii bugs came swarming out. The workers were consumed in a few seconds.

"I cannot mind-control them, as they do not have minds to control," said Cosmo. "I am directing people to raise the gangways, but the main one is fixed in position."

"Then maybe we can block it while you get everyone as far back as possible," said Peter. He, Gamora, Drax, Rocket and Groot began to run for the main gangway.

"And just after I got clean," muttered Gamora, drawing her sword as she ran. The other gangways were slowly raising.

A hundred bugs, maybe more, were coming across the bridge. Rocket pulled his multi-barrelled gun from the holster on his back and fired. The bolts cut a swath through the oncoming wave of creatures, but there were many more.

Peter had his twin guns drawn and was firing. Groot extended his arms and swept dozens of the creatures up, and then crushed then into slime. Drax had his knives out and was slicing every bug in reach into fragments. Those that he did not slice, he stomped on.

Gamora swung the sword again and again. _I really like this weapon,_ she thought.

Suddenly, the wave of bugs was no more.

Gamora wiped gunk from her face. "That wasn't so hard," she said.

"I am Groot," said Groot, pointing towards the freighter.

"What?" said Rocket, as he reloaded. "Oh ... right."

There was another wave of bugs streaming over the gangway. A bigger wave. Quite a lot bigger.

"You know what we could really use right now?" said Rocket. "A plan. That's what we could use. Quill, did you hear what I said just then? About needing a plan? Quill?"

"The creepy little beast is right," said Drax. "There are likely to be many more of them still in the freighter."

"Working on it," said Quill. He was studying the freighter, and the barge that had brought it in. They were still attached. He turned and looked back, studying the network of gangways.

"There!" he said, pointing. "If we can get over there, we can get to the barge, and then maybe haul the freighter out of here. Rocket, you think you can start that barge?"

"I can start anything," said Rocket. "Fifty counts of vehicular theft, remember?"

"There are certain to be bugs on the barge by now," said Gamora. "You will need me too."

"Then go, you three," said Drax. "The tree thing and I will hold this bridge."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah, you too," said Rocket.

Peter, Gamora and Rocket ran back along the gangway, until they came to a turn that would lead them towards the barge. They ran along it, but then came to a gap of several metres, where a gangway had been raised. It was a long drop to the bottom.

Peter took a few steps back and then ran forward, launching himself into the air. He made it ... just. He hauled himself onto the platform.

"Come on!" he shouted back to them.

"Uh, I have a slight problem here," said Rocket. "Short legs and long gaps, they just don't go together."

Gamora sighed. Then she picked him up.

Rocket said: "Don't tell me you're going to – "

Gamora said: "Yes, I am."

"I HATE ALL YOU PEOPLE!" screamed Rocket as he soared through the air.

And then Peter caught him.

Gamora came leaping across – not even an effort for her.

"How humiliating," said Rocket, as Peter put him down. "Please don't tell Groot. Or Drax. Or the dog."

"Of course we will," said Gamora.

They started to run for the barge. All the workers had either fled or been eaten.

They could see the main gangway from here, Drax and Groot smashing bugs as quickly as they could. But a few bugs had already got behind them, and the two Guardians were in danger of being surrounded. And bugs continued to spill from the freighter.

"Let's get this thing out of here," said Peter. He opened the door to the barge cockpit and they ran inside.

"You call this a plan!?" said Rocket.

The cockpit was full of bugs. Twenty, maybe.

"Leave this to me," said Gamora. She raised her sword and charged forward, slashing left and right.

"Wow," muttered Peter. "She's ... wow."

"Do you think we should help her?" said Rocket.

"How many of them are left?" said Peter.

"Twelve, maybe. No, about eight. Five."

"Probably not necessary, then."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Gamora finished the last two with a single, extremely impressive swing of her sword. She looked at Peter and Rocket. "Thank you so much for your assistance," she said. She glanced down at herself. She was covered in slime.

Peter drew his gun and fired – at a bug that had come up behind Gamora, almost in striking distance. It exploded, sending gunk over whatever of Gamora was not already gunked.

"You're welcome," he said.

Rocket was already in the pilot's chair, manipulating controls. "A little by-pass here, a small over-ride there, and ... here we go," he said. He pulled the start-up lever. The engine clanked into life, coughed ... and then sputtered out.

"How many counts of vehicular theft was it again?" said Gamora.

"Ha, I see the problem," said Rocket, pushing more buttons. "Had it in reverse." He pulled the lever again, and this time the engine started. Peter, in the co-pilot's chair, began to steer the barge out of its bay. There was the sound of metal grinding on metal as the freighter behind them began to move.

They headed for the open airlock.

"Can't we go any faster?" said Gamora.

"It's a barge," said Rocket. "It goes at barge speed."

They were through the lock, freighter in tow, moving away from Knowhere.

"Now what?" said Rocket.

"I vote that we dump it on Xandar," said Gamora.

"I like your thinking, but it would take us a long time to get there in this tub," said Peter. He turned the barge towards the wall of translucent colour.

"You know that that is the frontier of the Universe, right?" said Rocket. "That's why it's called The End. Because ... it's the end."

"I do," said Peter. He pulled the lever that dropped the cables linking the barge to the freighter, and then turned the barge away. The freighter, on its own gravity-less momentum, continued towards The End. It collided, and exploded in a shower of sparks and fire.

"Bye-bye bugs," said Rocket.

* * *

"I hope you will see fit to base yourselves here," said Cosmo, as the Guardians prepared to board the repaired Ship.

"Um, maybe," said Peter.

"I cannot tell you how unpleasant the experience has been, at every level," said Drax.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Well, I can understand that," said Cosmo. "But I hope you will reconsider when you have had time to think about it."

"Thanks for the money, anyway," said Rocket. "Not that we, you know, don't deserve it."

They began to file onto Ship.

"Lady Gamora, a moment, please," said Cosmo.

Gamora turned to face him.

"You will have to tell him," said Cosmo.

"About ... the sword?" said Gamora.

"No, about ... the other thing. Your feelings."

"Oh. That. Well, not if I can help it."

"But that's the thing, isn't it. You can't."

Gamora sighed. Life had been so much simpler when all she had to do was kill things. She went on board and closed the door behind her.

They were turning towards deep space when Gamora, walking along the main hallway, saw something sitting on a low table. She called the others.

"What is it?" said Rocket.

"It's a box," said Drax. "Of some sort."

"It is a television," said Gamora.

There was a note on the top. GUARDIANS – YOU MIGHT ENJOY THIS. COSMO.

"It's not just a television, it's a TV-VCR combo," said Peter. "Hey, I wonder ... " He pushed the eject button on the VCR part. A tape popped out. There was a title on it: he showed it to the others.

"And what," said Rocket, "is a Casablanca?"

END

* * *

**Groot, the Juke Box, and That Loving Feeling**

_Some things might be better left on a planet far, far away_

"You know, one of the things I find most puzzling about this galaxy is that you haven't got any music," said Peter, as the five of them sat in a bar called Jackkirby on a space station called Space Station.

"The Terran music you play on Ship is mainly for small children," said Drax. "Judging from the number of times that 'baby' is said."

"That's a term of endearment," said Peter.

"What is a term of endearment?" said Drax.

"It's ... complicated," said Peter. "So I assume that your people don't sing, Drax."

"No, but we have music," said Drax. "We make it by banging things together."

"Their heads, probably," muttered Rocket.

"Hmm," said Peter. "In any case, I don't play music in Ship much."

"Well, someone does," said Drax. "I hear it going all night, sometimes."

Gamora shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Peter glanced at her.

"I remember hearing a song in Thanos' Sanctuary," said Gamora, changing the subject. "It was a song that celebrated deaths in battle."

"Really?" said Peter. "How did it go? Can you sing it?"

"Is this a place we really want to visit?" said Rocket.

Gamora cleared her throat.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"No, it won't end well," said Rocket.

Gamora began to chant: "_Aww aww aww aww awww zaww aww aww ohhh ohhh awww oh aww aww awww awwww zaww oh awww –_ "

"Okay, we've got the picture, you can stop now," said Peter.

" – _aww aww aww zaww awww zaww aww maww bahhh bahhh bawww oh aww aww awww awwww zaww oh zawww aww aww aww awwer mahhh ohhh –_ "

Rocket pulled his gun out.

"There's no need to shoot her," said Peter. "Probably."

"It's for me," said Rocket.

Thankfully, Gamora stopped. "It goes on like that for a while. Another 137 verses, in fact," she said.

"Like I said, this galaxy does not have any music," said Peter.

"I believe I agree," said Gamora.

A purple-skinned woman came up to them. "I'm Leto, and I own the place," she said. "And I can tell you that if you want to sing Thanonian death chants, sister, take it outside. A long way outside. Next system, preferably."

"I was merely demonstrating to my friends," said Gamora. "And I am not your sister. But I have a sister. She tried to kill me, last time we met."

"Not surprising, if you were singing," said Leto.

"Hey, you know what this bar needs?" said Peter. "A juke box."

"A what?" said Leto.

So Peter explained the concept of Earth-style juke boxes. Records. Buttons. Coins.

"Huh," said Leto. "Well, there's a bunch of Ravagers that come in here, they owe me some money for their drinks. I think they drop in on Terra pretty often. I'll tell them to pick one up for me on their next run."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah," agreed Rocket. "I've got the same feeling."

It was several weeks later. After addressing a number of random galactic threats, the Guardians once more entered Jackkirby bar. It was crowded. Leto came up to them.

"Looks like you're doing pretty well," said Peter to her. "Hey, I see you've got a juke box!"

"Yeah, it's been bringing in the customers but it's not without its downside," said Leto.

Peter went to inspect the music selection while the others sat down at a table and Leto took their drink orders.

"What is the downside of the juke box?" said Gamora to Leto.

"Most of the songs on it help to sell drinks," said Leto. "But a few are, well, downright dangerous."

Gamora was watching Peter make a selection. He came back to the others while it started.

"What ones are dangerous?" said Gamora.

There was a clash of cymbals and a budda-budda-budda rhythm.

"_Get your motor running, head out on the highway – _"

"Unfortunately, that one in particular," said Leto.

"But it's great!" said Peter. "_Born to be Wild_, Steppenwolf. Rock 'n' roll."

"Not so great if you're running a bar," said Leto.

"Rock 'n' roll, eh?" said Rocket. "Now there's an interesting term."

The crowd in the bar seemed to have become a bit more raucous.

"_I like smoke and lightning,_" sang the voice. "_Heavy metal thunder –_ "

"Any moment now," said Leto.

Someone pushed someone. The pushee pushed back. The person he pushed was sent into someone else. Who punched the guy. Who punched back. And then punched another guy. The friend of one of the guys punched the friend of one of the other guys.

"Told you," said Leto.

"_Fire all of your guns at once, explode into space –_ "

"What a peculiar song," said Gemora. She looked at the spreading violence. "Bar fights," she muttered. "So uncivilised."

"Heh," said Rocket. "You're entirely right, greenie. Heh."

A body came flying out of the ruck and crashed onto the table. Everyone managed to save their drinks – except Drax.

"Hey!" said Drax. "That was ... uncalled for!"

He picked up the person and threw him back. Then he waded into the brawl.

"_We were born, born to be wild –_ "

The others watched Drax. "Not actually sure he's helping," said Rocket. "But it's fun to watch."

The music began to fade away but the fight showed no sign of doing likewise.

"Well," said Gomora, "it isn't a galactic crisis but I guess we should break it up. Since we are responsible. By which I mean that Quill is."

"That is unfair!" said Peter. "In part."

"When you say 'break it up', you mean rendering a lot of people unconscious, right?" said Rocket.

"I suppose so," said Gamora.

"Okay, just checking," said Rocket. "Hey, what's Groot doing?"

Groot was at the juke box, looking at the list of songs. He pushed some buttons.

There was a deep, mellow voice.

"_You never close your eyes, anymore, when I kiss your lips –_ "

The fight seemed to slow down a bit.

"_You're trying hard not to show it baby but baby, baby I know it, you've lost that loving feeling – _"

Bit more.

"_We had a love, a love you don't find every day –_ "

People starting going back to their drinks, and righting chairs. Someone appeared to be buying Drax a beer.

"_Bring back that loving feeling – _"

"Oh my," said Gemora. "That song is very ... interesting."

"Problem solved," said Rocket. "I'm not saying that that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"I'll have to remember that one," said Leto.

Groot came over to them.

"How did you know how to do that?" said Rocket.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Oh, right, yeah, of course," said Rocket.

The song ended. But the tune was still coming from ... somewhere. It was Gamora, humming. She saw them looking at her and stopped.

"I wasn't doing what you think I was doing, whatever that was," she said.

"Sister," said Leto, "I think you need a drink. A strong one."

Gamora sighed. "Yes," she said. "I think I do."

END

* * *

**Gamora and the Strange Liaisons**

_She was trained to handle anything – except her own feelings. _

Gamora walked into the Jackkirby bar on Space Station and took a seat at the counter. It was late; the place was almost deserted.

"Hi, Bambi," said Leto, the owner of the bar and, at the moment, bartender. "What can I get you?"

" 'Bambi'?" said Gamora.

"I should say that there are plenty of people around here who hold grudges from the days you were doing particularly dirty work for Ronan, not to mention Thanos," said Leto, wiping out a glass. "Not sure that they would consider your current activities with the Guardians to have balanced the scales. I can call you Lady Gamora if you prefer. If you feel like attracting attention."

Gamora thought about it. She said: "Bambi it is then, and I'll have the strongest drink you've got."

Leto poured some thick ultramarine fluid into a glass. Gamora downed it at a gulp. She coughed – and then signalled for a re-fill. Leto obliged.

"So," said Leto, "what's on your troubled mind?"

"My mind," said Gamora, "is not troubled." She downed the drink, coughed again, and gestured for another.

"Uh-huh," said Leto. "Look, sister, you might be able to fool your friends with the leather and the sword and the I'm-so-cool-I'm-frozen 'tude but you can't fool me. I'm a woman, and a bartender. I saw how that song got you hot under the ... collar. Tells me that you've a bit of an itch. And not just for a roll in the hay."

"A what in the what?" said Gamora.

Leto demonstrated with a particular gesture.

"Oh," said Gamora. "That. My experience in that area is entirely limited to the ... non-voluntary variety. When my father decreed that I had to be tortured, that was a part of it."

"Yeah, I can imagine that that would put you off," said Leto. "Mind you, the voluntary sort can be pretty good. With the right partner. But you've been thinking that, haven't you?"

"No!" said Gamora. "Well, yes. A bit. Perhaps a bit more than a bit. But that is not really the problem. The problem is that I am having ... feelings. They are making me unhappy. And also happy. It is confusing. For the first time, I have friends. And that is difficult enough. But there is one that ... I would like to be more than friends with. I think. Possibly. But I believe he sees me only as a comrade."

"And you know he thinks this ... how?"

Gamora's brow furrowed. She gave another sigh. "This is all ... _very_ ... confusing," she said eventually. "I think that perhaps I am not very good at being ... human."

"No-one really is," said Leto. "Especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But sometimes people manage to work things out, even if they seem to be completely mis-matched. Take that woman over there, for example."

She pointed to a woman sitting alone in a booth. She was wearing dark glasses and a large hat. Obviously trying to not be recognised. She had a drink in front of her, half-finished.

"She comes in here occasionally, waits for a particular guy," said Leto. "Sometimes the guy arrives first, and then he'll wait for as long as it takes. They meet and then they go off together. They've been doing it every couple of months since I bought this place ten years ago, and the fellow who sold it to me said that they had been doing it for twenty years. I guess the heart wants what the heart wants. I can't say I know either of them, but it's a big galaxy."

Gamora studied the woman. She looked vaguely familiar.

Then Gamora realised.

She picked up her drink and went over to the woman, sat down beside her.

"Well well," said Gamora. "If it isn't Nova Prime. A long way from Xandar."

"Gamora!" said Nova Prime. "Well ... yes. Fancy meeting you ... here."

"So you came all the way to Space Station for a quiet drink," said Gamora. "Alone."

"Yes," said Nova Prime. "A quiet drink. Alone. Entirely alone. Yes, entirely and completely by myself."

"Uh-huh," said Gamora.

The door of the bar opened and in walked ... Yondu Udonta. All clean and spruced-up. Wearing something that might be called a suit.

He walked quickly over to the booth. "Hi, darling," he said to Nova Prime. "Sorry I'm – " And then he saw Gamora.

Nova Prime had jumped to her feet. She and Yondu stared at each other. And then at Gamora. And then at each other again.

"Oh, go ahead," said Gamora. "I won't tell anyone."

Nova Prime and Yondu smiled. Then they grabbed each other and kissed. Passionately. It was a long, serious kiss. After that, they were bouncing out the door, holding hands.

Leto came over to Gamora.

"I wish I had someone who loved me that much," said Gamora.

"Don't we all," said Leto.

* * *

At the same moment that Gamora was drowning her sorrows, Peter Quill was on Xandar, visiting an old friend. Well, not friend exactly. More like a fence.

He dragged the person – large, bound and unconscious – into The Broker's store.

"Here you go," he said, dumping the man in a corner. "One customer who neglected to keep up with their payment instalments. You didn't warn me that he was so big, and carrying a Class 3 blaster."

"Didn't I?" said The Broker. "It must have slipped my mind."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now give me what we agreed."

"Oh, did I not mention that there are more non-paying buyers that you will need to collect first?"

Peter drew a gun. "Did I not mention that I fairly regularly kill people?" he said.

The Broker stared at the barrel pointing at his forehead. "Well," he said, "if that is how strongly you feel about it, and since you saved my planet and everything, I suppose I can provide it to you." He reached under the counter and took out a rectangular package, wrapped in some sort of hide. He pulled the hide back to expose the cover.

_History of the Zen Whoberi People. _The letters were in green ink, the same colour as the skin of the race.

"These solid-state multi-layered analog containers were never very good ways to convey information," said The Broker. "This is the last copy in existence. Although in this case rarity does not equal value. No-one wants it, as the Zen Whoberi people were wiped out years ago. By Thanos, I believe."

Peter picked up the book and examined it.

"Not totally wiped out," he murmured.

"Huh," said The Broker. "May I ask why you want it so badly?"

"It's a gift," said Peter.

"Really?" said The Broker. "It must be for someone important to you, for you to have gone to so much trouble. Do you know that I offer a gift wrapping service, for a small charge? May I ask about the circumstances in which you plan to present it to the giftee? It would affect the choice of wrapping paper."

Peter considered. So far, he had focused only on obtaining the book. He had not really given any thought as to how and when he would give it to her. Not like she was an easy person to deal with.

"That," he said, "is something I will have to think about."

END

* * *

**The Guardians Will Always Have ... Something**

_The end of one story sometimes means the beginning of another._

_[Author's Note: This story takes place a few months after the story _Groot, the Juke Box, and That Loving Feeling_, and after the story _Gamora and the Strange Liaisons.]

"I do not understand," said Drax. "Did Terra used to be entirely in black and white?"

"Perhaps it is supposed to say something about the characters," said Gamora. "That fellow is wearing a white suit, for example."

"It's just the way that movies were made back then," said Peter. "It's pretty old, you know. Set in World War Two."

"Hmm," said Drax. "Numbering wars is very efficient. My people should have thought of that."

"Why, how many have you had?" said Peter.

"Eighty-six, I think," said Drax. "Had we numbered them, I would know more certainly."

"Hey, will you guys shut up," said Rocket. "Some of us are trying to watch this."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Ha!" said Rocket.

The five of them were sitting in the main room of Ship. They had been at this location, on the edge of an asteroid field, for nearly a day, waiting and hidden. According to Nova Corps intelligence, a raider ship from the Tarkine Empire was due to pass through this area sometime soon. Really, Empire might be too strong a term. It was actually a rickety little collection of planets held together by a pompous fellow called Tarkus, who fancied himself a religious prophet. Most of the tenets of the faith he had created appeared to relate to stopping anyone having any fun. But his religious pretentions and the fact that he held a seat on the Galactic Council did not stop him from covertly sponsoring a mini-fleet of ships to plunder whatever they could lay their hands on.

So the Guardians had sat for hours, slowly going mad with boredom. Then Peter had remembered the videotape in the TV/VCR that Comso had given them. With a certain amount of trepidation, they had gathered around it, and started the tape. Peter had done his best to explain some of the historical background, not that he knew much about it.

"That is a nice bar, this place called Ricks," said Drax. "We should go there."

"And this city called Paris looks very appealing too," said Gamora. "Er, not that I am saying ... that it appeals to me. I am just saying ... that it might appeal to others."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah, I don't like the look of the Major Strasser dude either," said Rocket. "Too ... clean."

"This Elsa woman has a certain ... luminous ... quality," said Drax. "The fellow called Rick should kill the fellow called Lazlo in order to get her. That would solve all the problems."

They all looked at him. "Well, it would," he said.

The communicator beeped. Peter stopped the tape. The face of Nova Prime came up on the communicator screen.

"I assume that you have not yet made contact with the Tarkine," she said.

"We live in hope," said Peter. "What have these guys been stealing, anyway?"

"Juke boxes," said Nova Prime.

"Uh, what?" said Peter.

"Juke boxes, machines that play music when you put coins in them," said Nova Prime. "There is getting to be a thriving black market in them, with Ravagers bringing them from Terra. Apparently, it began at a bar at a space station called Space Station – not that I have ever been there, mind you, certainly not, never. The place got one and it proved to be so popular they spread. You wouldn't know how that got started, would you?"

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"There, you see, we don't," said Rocket. "Straight from the tree's mouth."

Groot looked at him. He started to speak again, but then shrugged.

"Apparently, a Tarkine ship snatched one from a bar out past Knowhere," said Nova Prime. "Took the whole thing. Broke the place up a bit, too."

"But why would Tarkus steal a juke box?" said Peter. "I thought he was against anything like that."

"He's a difficult customer, hard to know what he really wants," said Nova Prime. "I have dealt with him at the Council and I have not enjoyed the experience. He thinks he has a mission to tell everyone else what to do."

"Strasser," said Drax.

"Pardon?" said Nova Prime.

"Er, nothing, nothing," said Peter. "Well, we have to go now, we have got ... important business."

"Be seeing you," said Gamora.

Nova Prime stared at her. Gamora smiled, then cut the connection.

Rocket started the tape again. In the bar, the group of German soldiers were singing. Lazlo began to conduct the bar's band in a different song.

"Sing louder, French people!" said Drax.

"That is a very ... stirring ... song," said Gamora.

The sing-off concluded, and Major Strasser – the loser – ordered the closure of the bar on the basis that "everyone is having much too good a time".

"This is very complicated," said Gamora. "But also interesting. What do you think is going to happen?"

"Rick kills Lazlo," said Drax. "Or maybe Lazlo kills Rick."

"No, Lazlo kills Strasser," said Rocket. "They clearly have issues."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Why would Rick kill Strasser?" said Rocket to him.

"Who will Elsa end up with?" said Gamora. "Since she loves them both. Which is, indeed, rather foolish. But I suppose it is unpredictable, that stuff. Or ... so I have heard."

"What's with the juke boxes?" said Peter.

The others stared at him.

"Geez, get with the program, Quill," said Rocket.

They went back to the movie. Now Rick was pointing a pistol at Lazlo.

"There, you see, I told you," said Drax. "But he really should have a bigger gun."

They were at the airport. Darkness. Fog. Trenchcoats. The engines of the plane rumbled into life. There was a loud beeping.

"Uh, what's that?" said Rocket.

"That is the vehicle that will take someone to the planet of America," said Drax. "Once they can work out who."

"No, the beeping," said Rocket.

"Proximity alert!" said Peter. "The Tarkine! Everyone to stations!" He began to run for the cockpit.

"But ... but – " said Rocket, pointing at the screen. "We're just about to find out ... damn. Okay, then, let's kill these guys and make it snappy." He ran for his position, leaving the tape playing.

Peter in the pilot seat, Gamora at Tactical, Rocket at Weapons, and Drax in the twin-gun turret. Groot, waiting at the back of the cockpit, was ready to handle any damage. The formidable weaponry of Ship came online, and Peter pulled out of the asteroid field. The Tarkine ship came into view.

No, not ship. Ships. Four of them. They were smaller than Ship, but ... well, four of them.

"The Nova Corps intelligence did not say that," said Gamora. "They mentioned only one. Four is ... a challenge."

The Tarkine were turning towards them. Their guns were coming online.

Rick said: " _... the problems of three little people don't add up to a hill of beans in this crazy world ..._ "

"First salvo on the way!" cried Rocket. Ship bucked as the missiles left the bay. They smashed into the first Tarkine vessel. It exploded in a burst of oxygen-fuelled flame.

" _... you're getting on that plane ..._ "

The second Tarkine ship fired a pair of missiles. "I'm on it," said Drax from the turret, swinging his guns at them and firing. Both missiles went up.

Gamora was feeding tactical information to the pilot's console. In response, Peter violently swung Ship so it was between the two lead Tarkine ships. Now they could not fire without hitting each other.

"Nice move, greenie," said Rocket. "Firing broadside, both sides!" With the range close, Drax chimed in with the turret guns.

"_Rick ..._ "

"_We'll always have Paris._"

One of the Tarkine ships exploded. But the other, although damaged, turned towards Ship. Closing.

"Another few seconds before we're re-loaded!" shouted Rocket.

"We might not have a few seconds," said Gamora.

"Up to you now, Drax," said Peter into the intercom.

He fired. Major Strasser fell.

"HEAVY METAL THUNDER!" cried Drax, his guns spouting flame. Cranked up to full power and then some, the vibrations could be felt throughout Ship.

The Tarkine ship was coming towards them, close now. Drax's shells were smashing into it, raking along the side. It exploded, with a whirlwind of shrapnel and debris.

"_Major Strasser's been shot!_" said Remy to his men. "_Round up the usual suspects._"

Pieces of metal slammed into the side of Ship. The whole vessel shuddered.

"Hull breach in main hall!" said Gamora, switching to the Environment console. "Losing atmosphere!" Groot was already moving.

"_Very noble of you,_" said Remy, as the plane lumbered into the air. "_But you still owe me ten thousand francs._"

The two men walked into the fog. "_This,_" said Rick, "_could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship._"

"Where's the last one?" said Peter.

Gamora gestured to the Tactical screen, to the fourth Tarkine ship, making a run for it, already a good distance away.

"No way we can pursue," said Rocket. "Not until we make some repairs. The engines took a hit as well."

"Then I suppose Tarkus will get his juke box after all," said Peter. "For whatever purpose."

Groot's voice came over the intercom. "I am Groot," he said.

"Does that mean the breach is sealed?" said Peter to Rocket.

"Of course, what else would it mean," said Rocket.

They gathered in the main room, re-pressurised now. Groot had positioned an emergency shield over the breach, and had shifted a supporting bulkhead for extra strength. It had been a close call.

But there had been a casualty. The TV/VCR had taken a chunk of metal, the same piece that had come through the side of Ship. It would never play again.

"Damn, now we'll never get to find out how it ended," said Rocket, holding up the shattered cassette.

"I am ... upset," said Drax. "But I would like to think that Rick and the luminous woman would go off together."

"Maybe," said Peter.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Really?" said Rocket. "Rick sending Elsa away with Lazlo? Why would he do that?"

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"What do you mean, _because_ he loves her!? What sort of ending would that be!?" said Rocket.

"You know," said Drax, "I think I can live with that."

"But she never gets to hear him say it," said Gemora softly.

"No," said Peter. "She never does." He turned and walked out of the room. In a few moments, he returned, carrying something. He handed it to Gamora. It was still wrapped in hide.

She pulled the hide away. She stared at what the cover said.

"One of a kind," said Peter to her.

Gamora stared at him. Tears began to fill her eyes and slowly roll down her cheeks. Then, clutching the book to her chest, she stiffly walked away.

"Huh," said Rocket, watching her go. "Looks like greenie's got a heart after all."

"Yes," said Peter. "She does."

* * *

The headquarters of the Tarkine Empire was a cathedral-like building. Emperor Tarkus was sitting on his imperial throne in the cavernous Imperial Chamber, contemplating his greatness, when Korath the Pursuer entered, his new cybernetic skull glistening. He was followed by several robed Imperial Monks, dragging a juke box.

"Ah," said Tarkus. "So you have returned. With our prize. Perhaps you are worth what I am paying you after all, mercenary."

"You are most generous, Emperor," said Korath. "I regret to report, however, that three of our ships – which is to say, your ships – were lost."

"And this concerns me ... how?" said Tarkus.

"I mention it only to note that the ships were destroyed by the notorious Guardians of the Galaxy, who I understand are ultimately responsible for this plague of ... things," said Korath, gesturing to the juke box.

Tarkus nodded, and took a closer look at the shiny machine. One of the Imperial Monks plugged it in.

The Emperor pushed some buttons at random.

A voice sang: "_Don't push me, 'cos I'm close to the edge, I'm trying not to lose my head, it's like a jungle, sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under –_ "

_Uh-huh_, thought Korath.

Tarkus pushed another button.

"_If you liked it then you should've put a ring on it –_ "

Another button.

"_Come take my hand, we're riding out tonight to case the Promised Land, ohh, Thunder Road –_ "

Another.

"_Shut up and drive –_ "

Tarkus grimaced. "Evil," he said. "Evil, evil, evil. Distracting people when they should be thinking right and proper thoughts. And meditating. All of these machines must be destroyed."

"I will see to it," said Korath. "And ... the Guardians?"

"Them too," said the Emperor.

END

* * *

**Rocket, Cosmo, and Here's to Being Unique**

_Rocket is unique. But he's not the only one._

Rocket walked into Starlin's Bar, a place that was located in the middle of Knowhere. Yes, that's right, and the joke had been made many times. Rocket sighed. He cranked a seat up to a suitable height and then climbed onto it.

"I'll have the usual," he said to the bartender.

The guy looked at him. "Which is?" he said.

"Beer, with a beer chaser," said a voice next to Rocket. Actually, it was a bit below him. He looked down: it was Cosmo the Space Dog, telepathic Governor of Knowhere.

"Oh great," said Rocket. "The pooch."

"Hey, if you want to crank one of those seats up I'd be glad to join you, and put the drinks on the Governor's expense account," said Cosmo.

Rocket considered. Then he raised the seat next to him, and Cosmo jumped up. The bartender put a beer in front of Cosmo – in a bowl.

"That's disgusting," said Rocket. "Almost as bad as watching Groot drink from a fountain. No, possibly worse."

"It's what you do when you don't have opposable thumbs," said Cosmo.

So they drank their beers. Cosmo said: "What brings you to my little part of the galaxy?"

"I thought you could read my mind and find out," said Rocket.

"I have no desire to go into your head unless I absolutely have to," said Cosmo. "Who knows what might be in there. I made the mistake of looking into your friend Gamora and – whoa – that is one confused gal."

"Huh," said Rocket. "That wouldn't have anything to do with Quill, would it?"

"It has everything to do with Quill."

"Yeah, I thought so. Couple of weeks ago, he gave her something – a book about the history of her people, the Zen Whoberi. She's the last of them, and apparently Quill had to do some favours for The Broker to get it. It's the last copy in existence. She flipped out."

"What, she got angry?"

"No, she started to cry. Huh! Greenie, stone-cold killer, heart of marble and ass to match, and she goes all weepy! And then she goes to her room and doesn't come out for a couple of days. When she does, she's all, like, different."

"Oh," said Cosmo. "That sort of flipping out. That's the worst sort."

"And – get this – she ate one of Drax's donuts! The whole thing! I mean, this was his sixteenth attempt, and he's getting better at them, but ... she ate it! And only complained a bit! And she doesn't even call me 'rodent' anymore!"

"And how is Quill dealing with this?"

"He's completely normal. You know, _completely_ normal. Like he's trying really hard to be normal. And as for greenie, every now and then she disappears. Takes a runabout and goes off and comes back the next day, looking all pleased with herself. I tell you, man, it's ... really weird."

Cosmo was quiet for a while. Then he said: "What was that part about the donuts?"

"Oh, that. Drax has picked up a donut obsession. He's trying to make them, he's got pots and pans and even a hat. I don't know where he got that particular species of craziness."

"Probably when he and Gamora were on Terra a while back."

"Drax and Gamora went to Terra? Why would they do that?"

"To get a tape player. After Gamora broke the one on Ship. By overly energetic dancing, I understand."

Rocket stared at the dog. "Get away," he said.

Cosmo gave a shrug, or at least a canine version of one.

"Huh," said Rocket.

"And how is your large friend Groot?" said Cosmo.

"Oh, he's got female problems of his own, difficult as it might be to believe," said Rocket. "You know Nova Prime's assistant? Fills out that stupid uniform alright, always carries some sort of padd? I don't think she has a name."

"Hoover," said Cosmo.

"Really? Geez, what a dumb name. Anyway, last time we dropped in on Nova Prime, and the assistant comes into the office, nattering about something, and then she sees Groot. And she stops and says: 'Whoa. Momma.' Then she does that thing that women do where they curl a bit of their hair around their finger."

"And what did Groot say?"

" 'I am Groot'. Really, that's what he said. I am Groot."

"Makes sense, I suppose," said Cosmo. "Has he said anything else?"

"He doesn't want to talk about it, and I sure don't want to listen."

"Hmm," said Cosmo. "While it's good of you to bring me up to date, Rocket, I'm not sure why you're here, drinking beer without your friends and talking to a dog."

Rocket sighed again. "It's just that sometimes ... I feel so alone," he said. "This is about the first time in my life I've had friends, aside from Groot, and that's good. But it just underlines the deal that the only one like me is me. Unique. No-one else really knows what that is like."

"Uh, as it happens ... " said Cosmo.

Rocket stared at him. "Oh, yeah, right, I guess you do," he said.

The bartender re-filled Rocket's glass and Cosmo's bowl.

"You know," said Cosmo, "it's good to hear that someone else gets the blues about it sometimes. I thought it was just me."

Rocket lifted his glass in a toast. "So here's to being unique," he said. They drank. Well, Rocket drank. Cosmo ... lapped.

Cosmo jumped off his stool, and Rocket climbed down. "Well, I've got to get back to work," said Cosmo. "But, er, Rocket, next time you're in the neighbourhood, perhaps you'd give me a call. We could hang out. Drink some beers, see if we can pick up some girls. How hard can it be, for a racoon and a dog?"

Rocket nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I think maybe I will."

Cosmo offered his paw. Rocket shook it. Then Cosmo trotted off.

"Huh," said Rocket. "How about that."

END

* * *

**The Guardians, the Data Disk, and the Case That Should Not Be Opened**

_Everyone has their secrets. Which is not necessarily a bad thing._

"This is a matter that requires tact, discretion and subtlety," said Nova Prime to the Guardians.

"You've come to the right place, lady," said Rocket, scratching his butt.

"Why don't you use your Nova Force people?" said Peter.

"That ... might not be appropriate," said Nova Prime.

"Ah," said Gamora. "This is not exactly an official project, is it? So you thought of us. Since our status is ... gray. And we are ... expendable."

Nova Prime glanced at her assistant, and said: "Hoover, there's no need to take minutes of this meeting ... Hoover!"

Hoover was staring, starry-eyed, at Groot. What was obviously on her mind had nothing to do with taking minutes.

Groot leaned close to her and whispered: "I am Groot."

Hoover giggled, and blushed.

"Oh brother," said Rocket.

"Who do you want us to kill?" said Drax to Nova Prime.

"That won't be necessary," said Nova Prime. "At least, I don't think it will be."

"But it might be?" said Drax hopefully.

Peter sighed. "What's the job, exactly?" he said.

"It's very simple, really," said Nova Prime. "You just have to meet with some people, here on Xandar, and give them some money in return for a particular item. A data disk."

"What sort of people?" said Peter.

"Have you heard of the Luxori Consortium?"

"Sure, a bunch of pirates with a fancy name. When I was with Yondu Udonta and his crew of Ravagers, we had a series of run-ins with them. In fact, I heard that not too long back they jumped Yondu's ship, sent it down and stole his cargo, and Yondu got his leg broken. Is that what this is about?"

"Uh, well, in a manner of speaking," said Nova Prime. "I understand that they also stole the disk. It had ... certain information ... on it. Information of importance to ... Xandar. Yes, that's what I mean, important to Xandar."

"Hold it," said Rocket. "You're saying that Yondu Udonta was carrying important government information?"

"Yes, that's right," said Nova Prime. "Important government information. Highly classified. Top secret. The toppest."

"Knowing Yondu, it doesn't sound very likely," said Peter.

"We'll do it," said Gamora.

"We will?" said Peter.

"But it will cost you extra," said Rocket.

Nova Prime sighed. "How much extra?" she said.

Peter mentioned a figure. Nova Prime quickly agreed.

"Damn," said Peter.

The Guardians were sitting at a long table in the middle of an empty warehouse on the fringe of the city, waiting for the representatives of the Luxori Consortium to appear. There was a case on the table: the money.

"I say we take the money and tell Hairstyle that the disk was destroyed in the firefight," said Rocket.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"The firefight that happened when we took the money, of course," said Rocket to him. "Duh."

"I like this plan about the firefight," said Drax.

"Hmm," said Peter.

Gamora rolled her eyes. "Even by the standards of dishonest people, you are untrustworthy," she said. "I have no idea why I am your friend. You do not deserve me."

"True, we don't," said Rocket. "But maybe not in the way you mean."

Peter nodded towards the case. "How much do you think is in there?" he said.

"A lot," said Rocket. "I hope."

"You know," said Drax, "it is not a very nice case."

Now that he thought about it, Peter had to agree. It was a rather battered piece of stuff, without the obsessive cleanliness of the Xandarian polishing class. In fact, it looked like something that would come off a Ravager ship. Hmm.

The door on the other side of the warehouse opened and a troop of people came in. Five of them sat down at the table and the others – big guys with guns – lined up behind them.

"Too late," muttered Rocket.

Drax was staring at one of the Consortium members, a woman. She was wearing a rather strange shirt. It said Krispy Kreme. It had little pictures of round fried objects.

"What is Krispy Kreme?" he said to her.

"A chain of stores on Terra," she said, surprised. "They sell donuts."

"Ah," said Drax. "Donuts. You wouldn't happen to have any with you, would you? I could trade. I make them. I would exchange one of mine for a Krispy Kreme one."

The woman looked at him. "You ... make donuts?" she said.

The guy who seemed to be the leader snorted in derision. "A lummox like you?" he said.

Drax whispered to the others: "What is a lummox? Is that a metaphor for a person who cooks?"

"No," said Gamora. "It is a metaphor for a person who is an idiot."

Rocket put his head into his hands. "Oh no," he muttered.

"Hey!" said Drax to the Consortium people. "That is ... unpleasant!" He pulled something from the pocket of his trousers and put it onto the table. Once, it might have been a donut. Sort of. Drax-made. If you can call them donuts.

"That is the worst-looking donut ever," said the man.

"You didn't see his first attempts," said Peter. "But we are here to take the data disk."

"And give us the money," said one of the other guys.

"Uh, yeah, that too," said Rocket.

"What do you mean, 'worst-looking donut ever'?" said Drax. "What's wrong with it?"

"Ha!" said the guy.

The woman in the KK shirt shrugged. "Well, Yuroy, my first attempts were not so good either," she said. "Although I did not usually carry them in my pockets."

The man turned to her. "Come off it, Memi," he said. "This guy's donut is pathetic."

"It is not!" said Drax.

"Look at it!" said Yuroy. "Laughable! No body, no texture, and ... no hole."

Drax drew his knife. He rammed it into the middle of his donut. "There," he said. "A hole."

"It doesn't count," said the guy.

Drax reached across the table, grabbed Yuroy by the hair, and smashed his face into the table.

"Oh ... dear," muttered Peter.

The guys with the guns were raising them. Drax lifted the table and threw it onto its side, as a shield. Then he pushed it along the floor, like a bulldozer. It ploughed into the guys, ramming them into the wall. Memi leaped aside but everyone else went down in a pile.

Peter, Gamora, Rocket and Groot were still sitting in their chairs. They looked at the wreckage of the Luxori Consortium.

"That went well, I thought," said Peter.

"You shouldn't insult someone's donuts," said Drax. "Well, not unless you are friends who have proven themselves on the field of battle."

"I agree," said Memi. She looked at Drax. "Say," she said, "are you, you know, seeing anyone?"

"I see many people, all the time," said Drax.

"You have to keep it very simple," said Rocket to Memi.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Yeah," said Rocket. "Very, very, _very_ simple."

"Huh," said Memi. She pulled a pen from her pocket. She took Drax's hand and wrote a number on his palm. "Give me a call," she said. "To ... discuss donuts."

"I would like that," said Drax.

Gamora was going through the unconscious leader's pockets.

"Secret compartment inside the coat, on the right," said Memi.

Gamora looked there. She pulled it out. "Toppest Secret," she said.

Except it didn't look Toppest Secret. The disk was really old. The sort of thing that was used over thirty years ago. It looked like it had been played a lot. Like, a million times. It had a 'no-copy' protection tab.

"Something fishy here," said Peter.

"Yeah, we win, that's what fishy," said Rocket, picking up the case.

They walked out of the warehouse ... except Drax, who was still talking with Memi.

Peter threw the disk up and caught it again. "Just what do you think is on this?" he said.

Gamora took a portable disk-player from her jacket. "It is a good thing that someone in this team thinks ahead," she said.

They stopped at a little park. Gamora put the disk into the player.

It was a stage, like in a nightclub. A blue-skinned man came onto the stage. "Welcome to Yondu's!" he said. "We have a special treat tonight!"

"Hey, isn't that ... that Ravager guy?" said Rocket. "Or his son?"

"It's an old disk," said Gamora.

"Oh," said Rocket.

"You know, I recall Yondu once saying that he ran a nightclub before going into the smash-and-grab business," said Peter.

Yondu said: "Let me present the brightest, shiningest, sexiest star in the galaxy – and my close personal friend – SUPERNOVA!"

He left the stage and a blond woman came on. She started to dance – insofar as one can dance to music that sounded like a garbage can full of plumbing fittings falling down a fire escape. She was enjoying herself. Like a woman born to dance sexy.

"She's, er, pretty good, under the circumstances," said Peter.

"Uh ... yeah," said Rocket.

The woman sashayed back and forward across the stage, to cheers from the crowd. She gave a shake of her breasts and a wiggle of her hips. She began to remove her –

"And I think that is all we need to see of that," said Gamora, pushing the STOP button.

"Hey!" said Rocket.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Familiar?" said Rocket. "What, do you go to a lot of nightclubs?"

"I thought so too," said Peter. He turned the player back on, freezing the frame. He enlarged the woman's smiling face.

Peter said: "Is that ... ?"

"I think it is," said Rocket.

"Which explains a number of things," said Gamora.

They all stared at the face. The woman was younger than she was now, many years younger, but the face was definitely that of ... Nova Prime.

The place that they were supposed to meet Nova Prime was not her usual office. It was an office in a rather anonymous-looking building some distance from Central Administration. Actually, not really an office. More like a storeroom or something. Only Nova Prime and Hoover were there when Peter, Gamora, Rocket and Groot arrived.

"Did you get it?" said Nova Prime.

Peter handed the disk to her. She took it gratefully.

She saw that Rocket was holding the case.

"Oh, this?" said Rocket. "No, this isn't your case. It's another one. I admit they look a bit similar. But, no, this is a different one."

There was a crash as the door flew open. Yuroy – his nose bandaged – and two of his men burst in. They had guns, bigger ones than the guns they had had before. They did not look happy.

"Give us our money," Yuroy growled.

"What, this?" said Rocket. "What makes you think it's yours?"

From the other side of the room, another man stepped out of the shadows. He also had a gun, and it was pointed at Yuroy. He had a walking stick, like a man who had recently had his leg broken.

"Give them the case, Rocket," Yondu said.

"Er ... no," said Rocket.

Gamora sighed. She took the case from Rocket – not easy – and handed it to Yuroy. "There, now get out of here before I kill you," she said.

Yuroy looked at her, wondering if she was joking. Then he concluded that she probably wasn't. He and his men backed out of the room.

Nova Prime turned to Yondu. "Thank you for your assistance, Mister Udonta," she said. "How can I repay you?"

"Ma'am!" said Hoover. "We should not be dealing with this man! He is a pirate, a black marketeer, and a general scoundrel!"

Nova Prime looked at her and smiled. "You don't know the half of it, sweetie," she said.

"Perhaps," said Yondu, "you could just ... shake my hand."

So Nova Prime and Yondu Udonta shook hands. And as they did, the disk secretly passed again to the man who considered it a prized possession.

"And if a handshake is not sufficient," said Gamora to Nova Prime, "you will probably be able to think of something else ... Supernova."

Nova Prime stared at her. Then she smiled again. "I expect so," she said.

"Why is everyone so happy!?" said Rocket. "We lost the money. The ... extra ... money. The extra extra money."

"Not really," said Yondu. "Right about now, those guys are probably opening the case."

In the distance, there was the sound of a small-ish explosion.

"Huh," said Rocket. "And people say that _I'm_ untrustworthy."

"You _are_ untrustworthy," said Peter.

"Well ... possibly," said Rocket.

"I could use a drink," said Gamora. "Hoover, you should come with us."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"Really?" said Hoover. "But ... I'm working."

"You have my permission to go away," said Nova Prime.

So the Guardians and Hoover left, looking for a bar.

As they walked along, Rocket said: "That was a really stupid story."

"I thought it was somewhat appealing," said Gamora.

"Can be both," said Peter.

END

* * *

**The Guardians and the Last Dance**

_We fight for our own. Whatever the odds._

Peter, Drax, Groot and Rocket walked quickly into the Jackkirby bar – or what was left of it. Leto, the owner, was doing her best to put the wreckage into some sort of order.

"We got your message, came as fast as we could," said Peter.

"Geez, what a mess," said Rocket, looking around. "Someone really went to town here."

"It was those Tarkine guys," said Leto. "Last night. I was doing good business, everyone having a good time, then this whole troop comes in, maybe fifteen of them. A couple of them start laying into the furniture and the booze and the rest go for the juke box, with clubs and things." She pointed; the juke box had been smashed into very small fragments. "I think that's what made her really mad. She wasn't armed but she took down seven of them, hand-to-hand."

"Er, her who?" said Peter.

"Gamora."

"Huh," said Rocket. "Are we talking about the same Gamora? Green, 'tude, spiky as ... something really spiky?"

"Yeah. What, you didn't know she comes in here every once in a while? At first, it was just to have a drink, but after a while she got a bit looser. Half the time, she'd end up dancing, if someone put a good song on."

"Dancing?" said Peter. "But ... you don't have a stage."

"No, but I have tables. Had. I tell you, that girl could be really good for trade when she got warmed up."

"Greenie ... dancing?" said Rocket.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"What, really?" said Rocket to him. "Damn, the things that happen when I'm not around."

"Where is she now?" said Peter.

"They took her," said Leto. "She was going through them like a dose of salts when this other guy – with the Tarkines but not like them, a dark-skinned guy with a shiny head – steps up with one of those big electro-shock guns. He zaps her. The first time, she gets up and flattens a couple more of the Tarkines. The guy with the gun has to hit her twice more to put her down."

"Yeah, that's greenie alright," said Rocket.

"This dark-skinned fellow," said Drax. "Did he have bright blue eyes?"

"Er, yeah," said Leto. "You know him?"

"Only in the sense that I believed I had ripped his brain out. Not sufficiently, it would seem. And now he is working for Tarkus."

"Oh, that guy," said Peter.

"Well, he seemed to really enjoy putting the whack on Gamora. Like it was some sort of personal grudge. Anyway, once they had finished demolishing the place they wrapped up Gamora and left. Their parting shot was to tell me not to get another juke box. Advice I am likely to ignore, once I'm back on my feet. Pricks.

"You know, Quill, Gamora once told me that she hoped that you and she – "

But the Guardians were gone.

* * *

Gamora came awake with a start, to see the smirking face of Korath the Pursuer. She made a grab for his throat, before she realised that she was chained, spread-eagled, to a wall. Heavy chains, too strong for even her to break.

"My, she really is a feisty one," said someone standing next to Korath. The Emperor.

"Tight-ass, I presume," she said.

"That's Tarkus," he said.

"Have you considered changing it?" she said.

He punched her across the face.

"Emperor!" said Korath. "You should not do that! Please, allow me."

Then he punched her across the face.

She looked at both of them. "Whatever," she said. She looked around. She was on a sort of stage, in a large room, empty – aside from a juke box. "Oh, you have entertainment," she said.

"You misunderstand," said Tarkus. "You are to be the entertainment. For my army. For my men. My many, many men. To teach you a lesson. To teach all who are like you a lesson. And when your body and when your mind and your soul are completely broken, and you beg me for death, I will ... consider it."

"No, it is you who misunderstand," said Gamora. "I spent a year in the dungeons of Thanos. There is nothing you can do to me that has not already been done. If this is all you have in mind, I can only say that you are lacking in imagination. But go ahead. Give it your best shot. In fact, why don't you give me a kiss right now. And I will bite your tongue off."

"Huh," said Tarkus. "Yes, I believe you would. But let us see how clever you are when the first hundred of my men get through with you. That will be tomorrow. In the meantime, you can contemplate the fate that awaits you. And you can meditate on the fact that this monstrosity – " he gestured to the juke box " – will be destroyed as well, as all the others will be. In fact, your death will be the first of a new crusade, a crusade which will cleanse the galaxy of this evil." He turned and walked away, doing his best to flourish his imperial cape.

Korath looked at her.

"I heard you were dead," she said. "Head removed."

He tapped the cybernetic implant in his skull. "It got better," he said. "And I even got an upgrade."

"Huh," she said. "Well, you must consider this moron to be something of a comedown, after working for Ronan."

"Meh," he said. "It's a living. And also the chance to get even with you and your Guardian friends. I just wish they would come for you. This fortress has blaster cannons at every point, and there are hundreds of soldiers in the complex. Your friends would have to be crazy to try to rescue you." He punched her viciously in the stomach, and then walked away.

Alone, Gamora slumped against her chains, feeling the pain of her injuries. She wished she felt as nonchalant about her coming torture as she had suggested to Tarkus. In fact, she realised with a shock that she felt ... afraid. A shudder ran down her spine.

She thought about her time in the dungeons of her adopted father. There were many times, then, when she had hoped for death. And many times, after it, when she had not cared whether she lived or died. There had been, quite simply, no reason to care. Had that made her brave? Or merely cold?

But now she realised she wanted to live. For the Guardians. For her friends. For ... him. And the worst irony was that now, as she understood why, she was going to die. Slowly. In humiliation and pain. _And I never got to dance with him,_ she thought. _Never got to say the words, never got to hear them ..._

But ... what had Korath said? _Your friends would have to be crazy to try to rescue you._

She smiled.

* * *

"So, as you see, we need your help," said Peter to Nova Prime, on the communications screen. "Defences of the Tarkine fortress, layout of the place, troop numbers and weapons, anything you've got. Do you have that?"

"I have it, but I cannot provide it to you," said Nova Prime. "And I cannot sanction an invasion by the Guardians of a member of the Galactic Council. I would prefer a diplomatic solution."

"Yeah, that would really work for greenie," said Rocket.

"If you cannot help us," said Drax, "then we quit. Here, you can have the uniform back." He began to unbuckle the belt of his blue Nova Corps trousers.

"Someone stop him, please!" cried Rocket.

On the screen, Nova Prime held up her hand.

"What I mean," she said, "is that as I am a member of the Galactic Council myself, I cannot officially provide the information you request. However, there might be a member of my staff who occasionally – and entirely without authority – uses our equipment for private communications to your vessel."

"Oh," said Hoover, standing next to Nova Prime. "You know about that, eh?"

"My dear," said Nova Prime to her, "I know about everything." She turned back to the screen. "If it so happened that that staff member happened to append the full schematics and latest intelligence reports of the Tarkine fortress to one of her messages, then I can only say that, well, these quirks of bureaucracy occur from time to time."

There was the tapping of computer keys behind her. Then a message came up on the Guardians' screen. A smiley-face + H. Several documents were attached.

"That girl is dangerous," muttered Rocket, as Peter terminated the connection.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"No, I definitely do not want to hear about it," said Rocket to him.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"How the hell should I know where you can get a bow-tie!?" said Rocket.

Peter was scrolling through the e-pages. He turned to the others.

"Tarkus has a full army in there," he said. "Heavy weapons on the outside but those inside have mainly swords and maces. There's a lot of them. A _lot_. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"No, I don't know what he's talking about either," said Rocket.

"I do not understand you, Quill," said Drax, who had thankfully re-buckled his belt. "Is there an issue for discussion here?"

Peter looked at the others. "No," he said. "I guess there isn't."

* * *

Korath the Pursuer was in the room that controlled the external defences of the fortress, after receiving news of a long-range contact.

"A small ship, not answering hails," said the tech. "On screen now." An image appeared.

"I recognise this vessel," said Korath. "The _Milano_. The Guardians. Destroy it at once."

The blaster cannons opened up, a firestorm of energy bolts. The little ship swerved, dodged – and then took a hit. It went down, smashing into the ground and cartwheeling to a halt.

"I doubt there could be anyone left alive, but send a platoon to check for survivors," he said. "If there are any, I want them alive. I want the green woman to see them die."

He went to the room where Gamora was still chained to the wall.

"I was mistaken," he said to her. "Your friends were foolish enough to attempt an attack. They are dead, or soon will be."

"Uh-huh," said Gamora.

His pocket communicator beeped. "We have found two prisoners," came the voice of an Imperial Monk. "We will bring them to you."

Korath acknowledged the message and then contacted Tarkus, suggesting that he come to see the show. The Emperor arrived in the hall just as the main doors opened. The tree-like creature, his hands – branches – manacled but carrying the small furry creature, injured and unconscious, entered. The tree-thing was pushed from behind by a pair of robed Imperial Monks. There was a platoon of soldiers with them.

"Well done," said Tarkus to the monk in the lead, whose face was hidden behind the hood of his robe. "I would like to reward you for your service – the chance to go first with the woman, perhaps. What do you say to that?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," said the monk.

Tarkus looked at him. "What is your name, monk?" said the Emperor. "Show me your face."

The monk pulled his hood back.

"I know this man!" cried Korath. "He is ... er ... he is ... Quail!"

"Goddamn," muttered Peter.

"Kill him!" shouted Tarkus.

But the manacles of the tree creature had fallen off, and the rodent had pulled out a pair of smoke grenades. Korath saw the danger. "No, kill that one!" he cried.

The soldiers, confused, started to move one way and then the other. And in their moment of uncertainty, Rocket threw the grenades into the middle of the troop. Smoke everywhere.

The other monk threw his robes off. "Here, little beast!" Drax said, throwing Rocket his multi-barrelled gun. Then he picked up the two closest soldiers and smashed them together. Groot's arms extended, picking up several soldiers and throwing them into a wall. But scores of soldiers were beginning to run in from the adjoining room.

"Rocket, free Gamora!" said Quill, pulling out his guns and shooting. "Drax, Groot, the door!"

Drax and Groot ran to the heavy door, swinging it closed and lifting the bar into place. On the other side, soldiers began to push against it. But for the moment there was only the Guardians and several dozen soldiers in the room, and Korath and Tarkus.

Rocket aimed at the chains binding Gamora and fired. The chains fell away, although a long length remained attached to the manacle on her left wrist.

"Look out!" she shouted to Rocket. She leaped, taking down two soldiers that had come up behind him. With a series of punches, she sent one down. Then she jumped onto the shoulders of the other, her legs going around his neck. There was a snap as he fell, and she rode him down.

Korath was aiming his bazooka-sized blaster at her, trying to get a clear shot. But then the chain on her wrist whipped out, and wrapped around the barrel. She pulled, and the gun went flying. It skidded along the floor and landed at the feet of Drax.

He picked it up. "I like it," he said. He swivelled, and mowed down a group of soldiers.

Korath drew his long-blade knife. The chain snapped out again. The knife was knocked from his hand, and went spiralling through the air. There was a _thunk_ as it hit something wooden and lodged there. Groot. Specifically, Groot's butt.

"Whoops," muttered Gamora. There was no time to apologise: five soldiers were coming for her.

"Gamora!" shouted Peter, as he drew something from the folds of the robe and threw it. She leaped into the air and caught it, and it was out of its sheath before she hit the ground. She turned to face the soldiers.

"Now," she said.

She was taking down the last of them when she found herself back-to-back with Peter. They turned to face each other. There was a long, silent moment.

"Oh, for – !" said Rocket. "Quill, even I know that you're supposed to kiss her now, and I'm a racoon!"

"I believe the little beast is right," said Drax.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

So they kissed. In the midst of a battle. With the sound of blood around them. It was a long, passionate kiss, a perfect balance of tenderness and desire. In the history of the galaxy, this was one of the best kisses, perhaps the best of all.

They parted, and she looked at him. "Pelvic sorcery," she said softly.

"Okay, that's enough, we need you back in the fight," said Rocket. And then Peter and Gamora were swirling through the battle again, guns and sword. They snatched a smile at each other.

Gamora looked around, to see Tarkus and Korath vanishing through a side door. Peter, Groot, Drax and Rocket were each fighting several opponents.

She said: "Tarkus – "

" – is yours," said Drax.

Peter glanced at her. "Go," he said.

She ran after the Emperor and his mercenary.

The other four Guardians dispatched the last of the soldiers in the room. But there were many, many more outside, and they were ramming at the door with something. The bar across it was already starting to break. The four of them ran to the door and put their shoulders to it, trying to keep it shut.

"Was this the plan?" said Rocket. "You said you had a plan, Quill, but was this it?"

"The plan was to get in and free Gamora," said Peter. "And that is done. So ... I think I deserve some credit for that."

"Your planning processes," said Drax, "need further development."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"You can say that again," said Rocket.

The door was nearly off its hinges. A couple more blows would do it.

Tarkus and Korath were hurrying along a series of passages leading to the roof. Behind them, they could hear the footsteps of a dark angel with vengeance on her mind and a sword in her hand. She was gaining on them.

They came to an escape pod. Korath looked at it. "This can only carry one person," he said.

"Then you must stay behind and delay her," said Korath. "Sacrifice yourself for me, the Emperor."

Korath stared at him. "Fuck that," he said. He took a knife from his belt. "You got yourself into this, you moron, and ... well, that is all."

The footsteps were drawing closer.

The four of them fell back to the other side of the room. "We can't stop them," said Peter.

"Then ... they can bring it," said Drax, re-cocking the blaster he had inherited from Korath.

"I'm cool with this desperate-last-stand concept," said Rocket.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

Peter re-loaded his guns.

The doors fell and a hundred soldiers, more, surged in.

Rocket hefted his gun. "_LET'S ROCK!_" he shouted.

* * *

Korath climbed into the pod.

"What ... what do you expect me to do?" said Tarkus.

"I expect you to die," said Korath. "Perhaps with honour, although I would be surprised. But you can take this." He handed Tarkus the knife. Then he closed the hatch of the pod.

Tarkus hammered on the little window. Korath flipped him the finger. Then he activated the engines, and in a few moments the pod was in the air and away.

Tarkus looked at the knife, and then at the woman in front of him. She knocked the knife out of his hand.

"If it was Quill you were facing, he would no doubt say something witty or noble," she said. "Make a reference to Kevin Bacon, perhaps. Say something about the failure of your plan to take the music away. But you are not facing him, you are facing me. So ... "

* * *

Firing and punching, trying to stem the tide surging around them.

"Rocket," said Peter, "how many bullets have you got left?"

"Three," said Rocket. "And at this point I should probably tell you that-hand-to-hand is not my greatest strength."

Groot picked up his friend and placed him on his shoulder. Groot was already missing his right arm, but he extended his branches on the other side and swept a group of soldiers away.

"I'm almost out too," said Peter.

Drax's blaster had emptied a long time ago, and now he was fighting with his blades and his fists. But soldiers were swarming onto him, stabbing with swords and swinging their maces.

"Men of Tarkine!" shouted a voice. It was Gamora. She had leaped onto the stage. She held the head of Tarkus aloft. "Your false prophet has failed! Your Emperor is dead! You have nothing further to fight for!"

One of the soldiers, in front of Peter, stopped in mid-thrust. He looked at Gamora, at what she held, and then at Peter.

"What can I tell you," said Peter to him. "When the lady is right, she's right."

The man paused. Then he threw down his sword. So did the man next to him. And then they all did.

"Go home," said Peter. "And ... have a good life. Enjoy yourselves. Have some fun."

Slowly, silently, the men began to file out. Finally, only the Guardians stood in the room.

There was a groan, and then Drax crashed to the ground. He was covered in blood, and bleeding from a number of wounds. The others rushed to him, and knelt beside him.

"It grows dark, and I grow weak," he said. "Please ... Quill ... please find the donut woman Memi ... tell her that I am sorry I did not call her. I ... was shy ... and afraid ... and I lost her number when I washed my hand ... "

"Oh, this is unbelievable," said Rocket. " 'It grows dark, and I grow weak'!? What, did you get that from the back of a cereal packet!? Most of the blood on you isn't even yours, you know."

"I think he is right," said Gamora, examining Drax's wounds more closely. "This one here is little more than a cut, for example."

"No, I am sure that most of this blood is mine," said Drax, looking at himself.

"Thirty per cent, tops," said Rocket.

"No, at least seventy percent," said Drax.

"Forty, maybe."

"Sixty."

"Fifty, and that's my final offer."

"Very well then, fifty," said Drax.

"Which means you are probably not going to die," said Peter.

"Huh," said Drax. "You know, I think you are right."

"Which means you will have to find Memi yourself, and apologise to her and then see what happens," said Gamora.

"And what might happen?" said Drax.

"Who knows?" said Gamora. She looked at Peter. Their hands found each other.

They helped Drax to his feet. Groot picked up the juke box, miraculously untouched, with his remaining arm.

"Good idea, tree creature," said Drax. "We could use some more choices. By the way, did you know you have a knife in your butt?"

"That certainly has nothing to do with me," said Gamora.

They started to walk back to where Ship was hidden, some distance from the Tarkine fortress.

"I'm kind of sorry to lose the _Milano_," said Peter. "But maybe the Xandar techs can put it back together again, even the auto-pilot."

"The auto-pilot was a stick and some tape," said Drax.

Groot pointed to the stump of his right arm. "I am Groot," he said.

"I don't know if it will grow back in time for your date with Hoover!" said Rocket. "Damn, the stupid questions you ask, man! Anyway, women dig scars, you know."

"No we don't," said Gamora.

As they reached Ship, a Xandar vessel landed. "That'll be Ms Diplomatic Solution," said Rocket. "A day late and a unit short."

Nova Prime and Hoover emerged. Hoover looked at Groot and did the hair-twirling thing. She smiled. So did Groot.

Gamora was still holding the head of Tarkus. Nova Prime raised an eyebrow.

"Souvenir," said Gamora, with a shrug. "I will give it to a bartender I know, and she can put it in a jar and keep it on the counter."

"Well," said Nova Prime. "This whole incident, up to and including the ... unsavoury ... demise of a member of the Galactic Council will need to be thoroughly reviewed by a professional and independent body. Hoover, draw up a draft memo calling for the general public to suggest names for a panel to develop preliminary terms of reference for a fact-finding committee, which will begin inquiries at some time to be determined later."

"Yes, ma'am," said Hoover, making a note on her padd. "If I have it on your desk by the end of next week, will that be alright?"

"No rush," said Nova Prime. "When you get to it."

Peter could not help but smile. The Guardians began to go into Ship.

"Where are you going now?" said Nova Prime.

"I don't know," said Peter. "Wherever the road might lead us."

"Which is exactly as it should be," said Gamora.

END (but to know what happens later, read on)

* * *

**What Happens Later**

Some years later, Peter and Gamora retire from the Guardians. They go to Terra, and live in Colorado, where no-one minds about Gamora's green colour. They open a small music store, and have several children, whom Gamora teaches to dance. They are happy.

Drax and Memi have a number of donut-related adventures. They are happy.

Hoover joins the Guardians, first as an administrative assistant, and later, after a peculiar encounter with a solar flare that gives her some sort of superpower, as a member. She and Groot maintain an ongoing relationship, although no-one knows exactly what they do or how they do it, and no-one wants to ask. However, several times Hoover remarks that Groot is "a good listener".

Nova Prime eventually steps down from her position in Xandar Central Administration. She is last seen getting into a caravan-type ship with a blue-skinned man. Looked pretty happy about it.

Cosmo the Space Dog joins the Guardians, handing over the role of Governor of Knowhere to Rhomann Dey. In his first mission, he saves Rocket, or Rocket saves him, something like that. He notes that "this could be the start of a beautiful friendship".

Rocket continues to be a member of the Guardians, several times refusing to take the leadership role on the basis of: "what, do you think I'm nuts!?" It is noted, however, that he sometimes vanishes for substantial periods: speculation as to why ranges from recreational bounty hunting to an interest in watercolour painting. One way or another, he appears to be as happy as a racoon can be.

END AND AMEN

37


End file.
